Volt stood alone in the center of the cold, dim torture chamber.
He remained motionless, his gaze fixed downward at the dark blood splashes decorating the stone floor like a macabre map.
The air was thick with the metallic scent of iron and the lingering essence of suffering.
He didn't seem bothered. With a practiced, rhythmic motion, Volt pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket and began to clean his face.
He stepped over the puddles of cooling fluid and walked toward the exit, his boots clicking softly against the damp floor.
He moved with the casual grace of a man leaving a library rather than a room of horrors.
He looked up to see a man in striking red formal attire marching down the corridor toward him.
The fabric of the messenger's suit rustled with every stiff, disciplined stride. At the precise distance required by protocol, the man halted and offered a deep, sweeping bow.
"Volt of Nobility Tor," the messenger stated, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings.
"The Crown Ascilis Tor IV has summoned you for a formal report. There is also a secondary matter he wishes to discuss, the nature of which was not disclosed to me."
Volt slowed his pace, eyeing the messenger with a sharp, calculating intensity.
Something about the timing felt off. "Did His Highness convey anything else? Any specific tone or urgency?"
"No," the messenger answered truthfully, keeping his eyes forward.
"His Highness simply noted that he looks forward to your arrival by seven this evening. He was quite firm on the hour."
Volt narrowed his eyes, leaning in slightly to catch the man's scent or perhaps a flicker of energy. "You... you are a Conduit user, aren't you?"
The messenger didn't flinch.
Instead, a small, knowing smile crept onto his face. He met Volt's gaze with a chilling calmness. "His Highness has many tools at his disposal, Volt. He keeps his own monsters."
In a much quieter part of the city, Alaric sat slumped at his desk, surrounded by ledgers and inkstains.
Tylor stood by the tall window, his silhouette framed by the fading light of the afternoon.
A soft breeze drifted into the room, carrying the scent of rain and cooling the stagnant air, but it did little to ease the tension between them.
Without turning away from the view of the city streets below, Tylor spoke. "Tell me about your past, Alaric."
Alaric didn't move. He was buried deep in the labyrinth of his own thoughts, his mind racing through business deals and debts. He didn't even acknowledge the question.
"I asked you something," Tylor repeated, his voice dropping an octave, carrying a weight that demanded attention.
This time, the sound pierced through Alaric's daze. He blinked, looking up at Tylor's back. "Why? Why now, after all this time?"
Tylor finally turned.
He glared at Alaric with a deadpan expression, his eyes devoid of their usual spark. "Because things are changing, Alaric. The world is shifting under our feet, and whether you like it or not, you are likely one of the major reasons for this upheaval."
Alaric stood up abruptly, his chair scraping harshly against the floorboards. His face was a mask of confusion.
"How is that possible? Look at me. I'm just a businessman. I deal in trade and coin. I am nothing more than a normal man trying to survive in a city that wants to swallow me whole."
Tylor crossed the room in a few swift strides. He placed a heavy, grounding hand on Alaric's shoulder. "You know nothing of your own significance, Alaric Xyle. You see the surface of the water, but you refuse to look at what's swimming beneath it."
Alaric's eyes widened, his breath hitching in his chest. He hesitated for a long moment before whispering, "What is changing? What are you so afraid of?"
Tylor sighed, the sound weary and laden with secrets. He walked away, moving toward Alaric's bed and sitting on the edge of the mattress.
"Alaric... this is no longer a casual or friendly conversation between peers. I can't tell you every detail the laws of this world won't allow it but you need to know this at the turn of the New Year, a Lunar Moon will occur."
Alaric followed him, standing a few feet away, his hands trembling. "And what does a celestial event have to do with a man like me?"
Tylor didn't answer immediately. He stared at the floor, choosing his words with extreme care. "It isn't just about you. It involves everyone in Argon City. It is a catalyst. A doorway."
As the words left Tylor's mouth, Alaric's world suddenly tilted. His vision surged into total darkness.
In the midst of the blackness, a blurry image began to form. He couldn't see his own body, but he could feel the phantom sensation of grass beneath him and the cold air on his skin.
He was crying, his chest heaving with a sorrow so profound it felt like his soul was being torn apart.
He looked up at the fractured night sky in his vision. There, hanging like a bleeding eye, was a lunar eclipse.
When Alaric finally opened his eyes again, he was gasping for air, lying flat on his bed. Tylor was sitting adjacent to him, watching him with a clinical, knowing look.
"As I expected," Tylor muttered.
"Huh?" Alaric's voice was thick and dreamy, as if he were still half-submerged in the memory.
"Listen to me, Alaric. Your past holds something incredibly valuable, something even I haven't been able to fully decipher. This is a gamble, a dangerous one, but for the sake of the city and the things that must be protected, it is a necessary risk."
Tylor's tone had turned aggressive, fueled by a hidden desperation.
Alaric studied Tylor's eyes, searching for a lie but finding only a terrifying truth. "I saw something," Alaric confessed. "It felt like a memory, but it was fragmented. I can't remember it properly now that I'm awake."
"And? What else?"
"I saw... I was crying. I was in an open field, and the sky was wrong. I can't remember the rest. I can't!" Alaric began to scratch his head aggressively, his fingernails digging into his scalp as he tried to force the images back into his mind.
He stared up at the ceiling, a crushing sense of déjà vu washing over him. What was that place? Where was I, and why is my own mind locking me out? It's useless... yet everything feels connected.
Like a game where the rules are hidden from the players.
Suddenly, a word sparked in the back of his mind. "Wait. Conduit. Yes... that was the word. My key for the answers."
Alaric sat up, meeting Tylor's intense gaze. "You told me about Conduit energy before, didn't you?"
"I did."
"Tell me about it. Tell me the absolute truth, without the riddles, and I will tell you everything I can find about my past."
Across the city, Volt stood before the Great Inner Sanctum.
He was dwarfed by a massive, golden gate etched with symbols that defied human language. The Keepers of the Gate, silent and imposing, pulled the heavy doors open for him.
As Volt stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted instantly. The air grew heavy, pressing against his lungs with a physical weight that made every step an effort.
Standing at the far end of the hall was a man dressed in pristine white garments draped with a vibrant red cloak.
He turned slowly toward Volt. The man's blonde hair seemed to catch the ambient light, and his blue eyes gleamed with a terrifying, unnatural brilliance.
A small, thin smile appeared on his face. "Volt," he exclaimed, his voice smooth as silk.
Volt immediately dropped to one knee, lowering his head. "You called for me, Your Highness."
"Indeed I did," the King replied, his smile widening into something almost jovial.
"I have received reports from certain officials regarding a man wielding a strange, purplish energy. Tell me, Volt, what have you discovered about this individual?"
Volt's hands trembled slightly against the cold floor. "I am sorry to disappoint you, Your Highness, but as of this moment, I have found no concrete information regarding his identity or his origins."
Ascilis didn't seem angry. His smile didn't fade in the slightest, which was far more terrifying than a scowl.
"I trust you will find him soon. You are, after all, my most capable hound. But I have a more pressing question for you."
"As you wish, Your Highness."
"Is our Lunar Eclipse event properly sought out? Are the preparations finalized?"
Volt gulped, the sound loud in the silent hall. He looked up at Ascilis, who was watching him with an expectant, pleasant expression. "Not yet, Your Highness. There have been... complications."
In an instant, the King's smile vanished.
The temperature in the room plummeted.
The heavy air became suffocating. Without a word of warning, a massive beam of pitch-black energy erupted from the ceiling, crashing down directly onto Volt.
When the darkness finally dissipated, Volt was sprawled on the floor, his body broken. Blood pooled beneath his head, and one of his eyes was missing, leaving only a charred, empty socket.
Ascilis walked toward him, his boots clicking rhythmically. He looked down at the mangled man without a single flicker of pity.
"It is already the third of December, Volt. You have exactly twenty-eight days remaining."
Volt tried to speak, but only a wet wheeze escaped his throat.
Ascilis turned his back on him and began walking toward his luxurious, elevated bed.
"Fail me again," the King spoke, his voice cold and final, "and you know very well what I am capable of doing to you. And I will do it."
Back in Alaric's quarters, Tylor let out a weak, dry laugh. "I'll tell you the truth, Alaric. But I will do it only on one condition."
Alaric watched Tylor, waiting for him to speak.
Just as Tylor opened his mouth to reveal the price, the door creaked open.
Kale, the butler, stepped into the room.
He looked between Alaric and Tylor, sensing the thick tension.
He cleared his throat awkwardly and asked in a soft, deferential voice, "Sir... forgive the interruption. Should I bring the dinner up now?"
Tylor looked at Kale with a completely blank expression. "For me," Tylor said, "bring a well-cooked steak and a small bottle of beer. Make sure the beer is Hodig brand."
Kale nodded, offering a small, happy smile. He turned to Alaric. "And for you, sir?"
"Something light, Kale. Just something light," Alaric answered, his mind elsewhere.
When the butler finally closed the door behind him, Alaric turned his full attention back to his guest. "What is your condition, Tylor?"
Tylor leaned forward, his face inches from Alaric's. He spoke in a low, gravelly whisper that seemed to vibrate in the small room.
"You will go to your Mind realm and become an Arcanist."
Alaric recoiled, taken aback by the strange request. "My mind realm? What does that even mean?"
Tylor didn't blink. He met Alaric's eyes with total sincerity. "It means you will finally stop being a victim of your circumstances. You will become an Arcanist. In simpler terms, Alaric... you are going to become a Conduit user."